


Of Secrets and Stars

by marmolady



Series: A New Reality: Endless Ending [5]
Category: Endless Summer (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24487561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolady/pseuds/marmolady
Summary: (Endless ending) Trapped at the end of the world, not another soul holds memories of Estela's mother, Olivia Montoya, none except for Iris. The truth about Estela's birth might just be out there... but will it heal her aching heart or only fuel her grief?
Relationships: Estela Montoya/Main Character (Endless Summer)
Series: A New Reality: Endless Ending [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1366216
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Of Secrets and Stars

Estela levelled Iris with a look that would have all but the bravest quaking in their boots. She wanted to _talk?_ About… about….

“Why? I know how you felt about my mother—”

“My feelings aren’t what’s important here. Estela, for all the torment you must have endured, you deserve the truth. Or, at least, as much of the truth as I have to offer.”

The encounter with Iris had been a few days coming. Since Aleister had begun making headway in reaching out to what was his half-sister, it had been clear that cornering Estela had been a priority for Iris. Slippery as Estela was, even she couldn’t outpace that hovering projection unit for long.

Suspicious, Estela continued to scrutinise Iris’ face. While the hologram may have been programmed to be free from tell-tale tics in her most robotic state, this version was human in all but physical form. If there were no signs of intended deception… could she truly trust Iris?

“I hold no ill will toward you. It would _never_ be my intention to cause you further pain.”

“Fine,” Estela said shortly. If there was a scrap of closeness to her mother that could be gained by hearing Iris’ memories of her, there really was no question. She didn’t even have her _tio_ to ask questions to anymore…. She craved it. It was like a physical pull from deep within, impossible to fight. Iris held the only memories of her mother in any other consciousness on Earth. However much it hurt, she’d take it. “I’ll talk to you. But only if Taylor is with me.”

“Of course. Whatever you need. I…” Iris hesitated again, her eyes suddenly filled with sorrow. “I know there is much to be answered for. When the time comes that you’re ready to hear those answers, I’ll give you all I have.”

Being ready to hear further details of her mother’s involvement with Rourke was not something Estela thought possible. She took her time, appreciating that over the next few days, neither Iris nor Taylor said a thing to put pressure on her. There were periods when her unwanted connection to Rourke threatened to swallow her whole; the shame she felt in her very existence leading her to retreat from her friends. The thought of wallowing in a crisis of self while there was a whole damn world to be grieved was repugnant. And so the creeping shame was magnified. It would keep her awake at night-- which had its benefits, namely that she’d be alert enough to rouse Taylor from frequent nightmares and flashes of disturbing visions. Between the two of them, though, it meant for very little sleep, and it became increasingly clear to Estela that she couldn’t let it lie any longer. She could only hope that answers would do _something_ to bring her peace.

In the end, it was almost a week after the offer that Estela and Taylor sat down in the grand library to hear Iris out. As the floating ball joined them, buzzing as it readied to project the hologram, Estela’s stomach clenched. God, was she grateful for Taylor there beside her, always touching, always offering support without question.

“Thank you,” Iris said as she flickered into shape, “for your trust. I know it doesn’t come easily.”

Estela gave a stiff nod. That trust could be taken back at any moment. “When did you know?” she asked shortly. There was no point in beating around the bush.

Iris looked Estela straight in the eye as she replied, hoping that her honesty would be clear. “When Everett uncovered the error in your date of birth, he had me analyse samples taken from your room in the Celestial. We compared these with his, and your mother’s, which we had on file. This was after we’d captured your friend, Varyyn, for the purpose of cloning a stronger pilot for the Omega Mech.”

While Estela shuddered, there was an inkling of relief. Iris, at least, had not purposely kept the knowledge from her. It counted for something. She looked away, cursing her weakness in facing up to the cold, hard truth. She couldn’t bring herself to ask more, instead letting Iris tentatively speak on.

“I hope it will give you some comfort to know that, as far as I could ever ascertain, the tryst was not so much an affair, but a one-night stand.”

Comfort? When the thought of those hands upon her mother even for a second made Estela’s stomach churn? She felt bile rising up in her throat. _Why?_ It didn’t make sense to her. Her mom wasn’t impulsive; she just wasn’t. But it was so long ago… Olivia Montoya may not have been a young woman Estela might even have recognised. Unable to look at Iris, Estela stared straight ahead at the wall. _Jesus,_ she was grateful for the feel of Taylor’s hand upon her knee, some semblance of security as she braced for her heart to be shattered.

“A conference was held not long after Aleister was born. It was an event that drew the pre-eminent astrophysicists from across the world, and Everett was both the sponsor and the keynote speaker. Attendees stayed at one of Rourke International’s earliest resorts… your mother was among them.”

“I don’t understand,” Estela choked out. “My mother was in Colombia. She was poor. If she went to this conference, it must have cost… _everything_ she had. And you think that was when…?” She shook her head. It was nonsensical.

“I know it was.” Iris hesitated, her eyes filling with regret for what she knew she had to say next. “I’d come to confront him after he’d failed to return home the evening before as promised; with a newborn son, I was near the end of my tether. Your mother was in Everett’s room the morning after the end of the event. I’m sorry, Estela.”

And all of a sudden, it was so real. Real in a way Estela had not yet felt. It hit her like a truck, leaving her broken. She doubled over, barely able to feel the protective grasp of Taylor’s arms around her body through the all-encompassing agony. _How could you, Mom? Why did it have to be him?_

* * *

Olivia was certain that she stood out like a sore thumb as she wandered between presentations alone, a fish out of water overwhelmed by the scale of the thing. Of course, she’d expected it to be this way. One didn’t just blow a chunk of their inheritance on an event that held no meaning; no, this was the kind of networking opportunity that could _make_ a career. The kind of doors being opened that her inquisitive mind could only dream of, coming from a poor town in Colombia. But who had she been kidding? These were big names with big money behind them. Olivia might as well have an illuminated flashing neon sign on her head saying ‘I don’t belong here’.

It didn’t matter, though, what her prospective peers might think of her humble background; Olivia was here first and foremost to soak up thoughts and ideas, to set her young mind on paths to knowledge she hadn’t known she’d wanted to find. Her father would have loved this. Partly, that was the reason why she had taken this leap of faith. An insatiable thirst for knowledge was a trait they’d shared, and it had led to countless nights exploring the wilderness, collecting samples of rocks and leaves and feathers… anything that might have helped piece together their own understanding of the world. That had been many years ago, when Olivia was a little girl. Even after her mother had become sick, Olivia could always count on her father to make time to listen to her sharing every insight she gleaned as she made her way through school, then university. Of all their shared loves, it was their fascination for the stars above that most inspired her. With her father, Olivia had spent countless hours stargazing. The thought of the immensity of the universe was weirdly comforting when her own little world had its way of being nothing short of cruel. For him, she would put the lonesome ache in her heart aside, experience this dream-come-true. Or at least, she was determined, she would try.

Lost in the text of a glossy poster, mind swimming with a thousand questions about some bizarre minerals of extra-terrestrial origin, she didn’t notice the author, a tall man who had been observing her intently.

“There is so much more,” the man said at last, striding forwards. “Far beyond the dreams of the small-minded. Such _potential.”_

Olivia startled, her cheeks flushed. In the moment it took for her to recover herself, she took in the appearance of the owner of that cool, smooth voice. The man was both smartly groomed and dressed, as was expected at such an event, but the seemingly endless confidence with which he held himself-- almost _smug_ \-- gave him an air of elevated status that a suit alone couldn’t produce. His height was imposing, and that tall figure was well-built; there was a sharpness to his expression not altogether unpleasant. In fact, if the swooping of her gut and the sudden throb somewhere lower was anything to go by, that intelligent, _intense_ gaze had quite a different effect on her.

“You’re Everett Rourke,” she stated, not the slightest tone of questioning in her voice. There couldn’t be. A failure to recognise _that_ famous face would have been the height of embarrassment. In his mid-thirties, Everett Rourke was already hailed as a visionary; in truth, one of the greatest draws to the event for a young scientist just starting out.

When Rourke offered a handshake and she took it, Olivia felt a rush of electricity, connection so profound that she near forgot her own name. The heat reddening her face soared, reaching her ears, the nape of her neck. Refusing to be daunted, even with her own unwanted state of fluster, she took his hand firmly and looked him straight in his piercing eyes, the blue of the ocean on a stormy day. 

“Olivia. Olivia Montoya.”

Offering a cup of coffee into Rourke’s hands, Olivia settled beside him, into an almost-impossibly comfortable couch. She couldn’t help a low groan as she finally took the weight off her feet. It had been a long few days. A long, _long_ few days. Enraptured in her conversation with a man who was something like a legend, she had let the hours get away from her. Bizarrely, it seemed as though he was every bit as enchanted with her, with her insatiable curiosity, with her blazing drive, as she was fast becoming with him. It was only when she sat down that it dawned just how she’d needed to recharge her batteries.

Rourke took a deep inhale of the steam coming off his drink. “There truly is no comparison to a Colombian brew,” he said.

“Of course not,” Olivia said, a slight smirk upon her face. “How did you think I finished my Masters? I would never have survived otherwise.” She shook her head with a chuckle. “No… no, I had to bring some comforting piece of home with me. As I said, I’ve never travelled.”

When she looked up from her drink, it was into a gaze heavy upon her own. What was it there? Olivia’s stomach felt to somersault as she saw a flicker of something like… _want._ But it couldn’t be… it couldn’t be.

“Well, my darling,” Rourke set his cup down without his eyes leaving those of the young scientist. “ I have the strangest feeling your world is set to expand more than you could know.”

How could he know what that meant? A man of the world, he must have known exactly how his words would land upon someone like her. Olivia’s body tightened, and she looked pointedly away. He wanted something from her. What could he possibly want from her? Through his words, her mind had been opened up a whole new realm of possibilities; of infinite opportunities for discovery in places only the most brilliant minds would think to look. A vision of being able to create something better than the struggle that had stripped both her parents of their lives, that had left her to fight for her place on this Earth alone.

Cautiously, Olivia turned back to Rourke, drawn like a moth to a flame, intoxicated. A man like him could charm his way into the arms of any woman he wanted. And yet, here he was, entertaining the company of a _nobody,_ poor and unproven. He held onto each word out of her mouth as if she were reciting all the wisdoms of the universe. His eyes grazed her body with a heady stare, as if in all his like he’d never seen anything so magnificent. The throb of her own heartbeat made her deaf as her gaze found his mouth, his lips slightly parted. She dared herself; go on. _Take the leap._ Somewhere in that lingering moment, her brain must have commanded her body forward, as she leaned in.

His lips crashed into hers, and the tiredness was gone. Held tight, she moaned into the embrace as he reached for her, giving the touch she couldn’t even have comprehended how much she’d craved. Warmth bubbling at her core… she was flying. She was soaring.

The morning after the last night of the conference, Olivia stirred in a bed that was not her own. Blinking, she became aware that she was alone there, the sheets beside her pulled back. She sat up slowly, her body awash with a cold numbness as she looked upon an empty space. No note had been left. Perhaps he’d return. It made perfect sense to her that Everett Rourke would have a million other things to attend to; their goodbyes had, for all intents and purposes, already been said. Much as disappointment had settled in the pit of her stomach, she was determined not to let it overshadow the high of the past two days.

She rose slowly, taking in the lavish comforts for what she knew would be the last time. If inspiration was what Olivia had been searching for, she’d found it. From here, the sky was the limit, and she was more determined than ever to complete her Ph.D. Buoyed by her renewed self-belief, she began to dress. And then the door creaked open.

“Oh.” On the face of the woman who entered was fleeting surprise, turning quickly to quiet anger… contempt. “I see.” She spoke icily, and that ice sent a chill down Olivia’s spine.

Hastily throwing on her shirt, fingers fumbling, trembling as she did so, Olivia couldn’t avert her eyes from that furious glare. _Oh, god, she’s…._ Disbelieving, she thought her stomach might just bottom out. It hadn’t even occurred to her that her tryst with Rourke might have been… illicit; how could she have been so _stupid?_ She gathered her senses just enough to speak.

“I’m sorry, I--”

“You’re _sorry_?” the woman spat, an English accent coming through even in the harshness of her tone. Then she became calm, deathly so, and looked upon Olivia as though she was a piece of dog dirt on an expensive rug. “Please, if I want a snivelling apology from the latest tart bedded by my husband, I’ll ask for one. Just-- dress yourself and get out; I think your dignity and mine have both suffered enough.”

Olivia staggered out of the room in a haze, the weight of what had happened, what she’d _done,_ settling on her shoulders and threatening to crush her. She could just curl up and hide her face in shame. _How could you have not realised? What the hell did you think you were doing?_ Crouched outside her hotel room, she took her head in her hands and tried hold down the massive lump in her throat. No one could know about this. No one could ever know.

* * *

“Estela? ‘Stel?” Taylor’s voice was gentle, care shining through. Almost enough to break through the storm in Estela’s mind and heart. “Babe, we can come back to this later. If it’s too much right now, that’s okay.”

Estela shook her head, trying to clear the haze. Iris had offered… a lot. A few certainties, and much more speculation. Rourke had been quick to see something in Olivia from the time she arrived on La Huerta as a junior researcher. The penny had dropped not long after, and his interest in her allowed her to rise through the ranks at an unprecedented speed. Iris had spoken with restraint, but the resentment couldn’t be completely hidden.

Iris had paused once more, allowing Estela the time to process, then continued. “I feel I ought to clarify; I don’t wish for you to believe that your mother reached such heights simply as a result of Everett’s infatuation with her. Olivia had a brilliant mind, and a work ethic that couldn’t be bettered. It churned my stomach to see her working here, knowing what I did, but I can’t deny she was a great talent.”

Swallowing hard, Estela squeezed Taylor’s hand… letting it be just enough. “Rourke knew she had a daughter. He must have done. She… tried to throw him off the scent? He thought I was born in January, that I couldn’t have been….” _…his._ She left the last word unsaid, still refusing to taste it upon her lips.

“Yes, he knew she had a daughter in San Trobida. She’d begged him to make an exception to the rule, to allow you to join her here. Everett wouldn’t have it. Though he was very private, I was always under the impression that he was pursuing Olivia romantically… or at very least, sexually.” Her voice again took a cold tone. “Everett was not one for attachments of the emotional kind.”

Estela shuddered. _How_ dare _he? How dare he even_ think _he was worthy of her?_

Iris’ expression softened, and she offered Estela a kind smile. She couldn’t resent her, for all the shock and the hurt the revelation had caused. Rourke’s rejection of Aleister and glee upon the discovery of his siring of Estela had hit her like a kick in the gut. It was personal, and it was cruel. But Estela was an innocent victim in this, one of too many.

“Even with the little I knew of her, it was clear she loved you very much. It was a source of frustration for Everett, I’m sure. I don’t believe she was ever tempted to rekindle any spark that once might have been there.”

Estela’s eyes prickled. “…She…” _She wanted me safe. You did it Mom; you won._ Unable to find words to express the sorrow that engulfed the whole of her being, she closed her eyes tight and pressed herself against Taylor. _But I wanted you safe. I want you, I want you, I want you._

* * *

_I want you._

Olivia placed a hand on her belly-- flat, though surely only for a few weeks more. She’d taken a second test, to be certain, and sure enough… positive. Shock was to be expected, it was only natural. But there was no dread, no uncertainty. Perhaps she was foolish; by all accounts she should be scared out of her wits-- how on Earth was she in a position to raise a baby?-- but fear was overshadowed by longing. Longing for a connection deep and profound.

This little baby, Olivia was certain, would be the making of her. 

_Okay, deep breaths. You can handle this._

Throughout her pregnancy, Olivia continued to work as a laboratory assistant, holding off from beginning her Ph.D. with the knowledge that her best chance of success would be after she and the baby had settled. Ineligible for any maternity pay, she had to scrape together what she could, and be prepared to live off her inheritance until the baby could be left for long enough that she could work. It was tricky. For so long, her work and study had been everything to her, but the thought of missing a _second_ of her baby’s life was awful. Olivia knew exactly what kind of childhood she wanted to offer, and she was determined to put everything into place to make it happen.

After a long day, she collapsed onto her worn-out couch and flicked on the television, letting it play in the background while she hashed out a letter to her brother. Perhaps it was cowardice, but Olivia had been putting it off. Older than her by some five years, Nicolas had always been protective. Oftentimes he’d write, urging her join him in San Trobida, where at least she’d be away from the ghosts of her past. He couldn’t return to Colombia, not after everything he’d lost, but leaving behind his little sister, Olivia knew, was a constant ache. How would he handle the distance when it was not only his sister, but a tiny niece as well? Vulnerable, struggling through a harsh existence with only one another.

A name mentioned on the television jolted Olivia to attention, her head snapping upwards to look at the screen. It was him. Everett Rourke. Cutting a ribbon to open a museum-- and there, beside him, his wife, who held cradled in her arms… an infant.

_He has a baby. We had sex, and the whole time… he had a newborn waiting for him at home._

_“Joder…”_ she muttered under her breath. “Of all the lowlife….”

Olivia held her head in her hands, her upper body trembling with the strain of trying to control her breathing. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised. The fact that Rourke had taken another woman to bed while he had a wife at home already spoke of the type of man he was… but that there was an innocent baby, so callously brushed aside… it was sickening. Hot shame flooded her body, fiercer than ever. _This is on you, too. You shouldn’t have been so blinkered by your own need._

When she thought of her own unborn child, Olivia gasped out a painful sob. Now, there was no chance at all she could go to Rourke for any measure of parental support, no matter how desperate her situation became. _No,_ she told herself as her breathing steadied. This was _her_ shame, and her baby need never carry it. And that man, that vile, self-absorbed man who had no business parenting any child; he need never know that Olivia’s _stupid_ mistake had produced something beautiful. She knew what a father should be; she’d drowned in tears for the loss of one. As far as Olivia was concerned, her unborn baby had no father.

Whether she was ready for what was to come or not, Olivia’s pregnancy reached its end. She’d been sent home several weeks prior, unable to continue working as her back was so often rendering her immobile. It was terrifying to have no more income, but Olivia told herself that the ability to care for this little one was the greatest gift her parents could have wanted to give her. She and the baby, they’d be sustained… at least in the short-term. Forcing worries aside, she’d focused on self-care, and turning her bedroom into a nursery. Some days she could only decorate for a few minutes before her body would scream for rest, but even then she could busy herself with the knitting of blankets and clothes. The big day came, a half-knitted cardigan that might have fitted a doll left on Olivia’s nightstand in her rush to get to the hospital.

Lying in that bed, midwife busily working around her, Olivia was afraid. Alone, and afraid. It had been two years, just two damn years since she’d been surrounded by family; her parents and Nicolas… they’d have gathered around her now, ready to welcome the baby with raised glasses and floods of happy tears.

_Papa. I’ll show baby the stars for you, I swear it._

The hours passed and the labour intensified. Fear gripped Olivia from her head to her toes; she could barely make out the midwife’s instructions. But she caught the words ‘the head is delivered’.

“...Baby…? My baby?” she gasped.

“One more big push,” the midwife said firmly. “On your next contraction, push _hard.”_

With every ounce of strength in her spent body, Olivia heaved. Then she held her breath, waiting for the cry that didn’t come.

_No…._

The world blurred. She saw the small bundle whisked away, silent and limp, blue. Olivia wanted to scream, to reach and take the baby in her arms and love them into life. But she was paralysed, trapped in her frozen body as nurses rushed into the room. The quiet through the flurry of activity was torturous. Why wasn’t the baby crying? Silent tears rolled down Olivia’s cheeks.

_Please, baby. Please…._

And then a weak, spluttering cry.

“Congratulations,” the midwife said, voice rough with strain even as she looked over to her patient with a reassuring smile. “You have a daughter.”

_Oh god, oh god…._

The midwife brought over the infant, now wrapped in a towel, cries growing in strength. “She was in a bit of distress, but she just needed a little help with her breathing. Baby’s going to be just fine-- she’s ready for her first cuddle.”

Olivia’s breath caught in her throat as the bundle was placed in her arms and she caught first sight of the face she’d so longed to see. The baby’s extremities held a blue tinge, her head was plastered close with dark, wet hair, her face was screwed up as she cried feebly, indignant at the shock of entering the world. She was a fragile scrap of a child. And from the moment Olivia took that baby in her arms, she adored her. In that wrinkled face, beautiful beyond words, she could see an indomitable spirit, one she’d tenderly nurture and watch blossom in years to come. “Shhh… little one. _Te tengo, mija. Mami te tiene.”_

The baby settled, bleary eyes struggling to focus on the kind, smiling face before her. In that moment, in that utterly blissful moment, Olivia knew that the old aching loneliness would be a thing of the past. She and her sweet _nena,_ they had each other. Her heart skipped a beat as the baby girl’s impossibly small hand took her finger and clasped. Hand in hand, they might just take on the world.

* * *

The scent of seafood and spices drifted up from The Celestial’s gourmet kitchen, drawing Catalysts from all corners of the resort. With night falling fast, the air outside was pleasantly cool, and most of the group were gathering poolside for yet another dinner courtesy of Raj. The shared dinners were a coping mechanism. A focus, some kind of purpose for Raj, and a nightly cementing of bonds for the group as a whole. One another was all they had, and any absences were felt as gaping chasms.

Estela held back. It had been hours since she’d uttered a word to anyone, even Taylor. After the harrowing talk to Iris, Estela had been clear in her need for space, and Taylor had given it… always with the assurance that her shoulder was there to be leaned on. Perched upon the hill beyond the resort, Estela watched the gathering with eyes glazed over. How could she join them? Every single one of her friends carried a fathomless grief, grief for all they’d once loved. How the hell could she go down there and burden them with her inability to cope with this new identity she’d had thrust upon her? It was better that she cried here alone. Or at least, that was how she’d have it.

The leaves behind her rustled, and Estela turned, instantly alert. Taylor? No… that panting breath… that’s not Taylor.

“ _Phew_!” Raj exhaled, crashing through the last of the underbrush. “Gotta… hand it to you; hiding away up a hill _this_ steep is a pretty… sound… self-isolation tactic. Must… sit down… breathe….” He flumped onto the grass beside his friend, apparently missing the incredulity upon her scarred face.

“I’m not hungry.” _Well,_ Estela thought to herself, _don’t you sound like a sulky child? Mom never would have let_ that _fly._ And apparently, neither would Raj.

“Aw, Estela! Did no one ever tell you? Can’t kick ass on an empty stomach.” He grinned encouragingly and sidled closer.

That small, stupid gesture of affection tipped her over the edge. Tears welled forth, spilling down her cheeks before she could so much as turn away defensively. When Raj opened his arms to her, she didn’t fight-- she couldn’t, not when all she saw there was warmth and care. She let his tight embrace surround her as she sobbed; firm but gentle, and finding there no judgement, no questioning… just a friend. A real, genuine friend. He couldn’t know what it meant, nor did she have the words to tell him, but she burrowed close, inhaling a bizarrely comforting scent of weed and spices.

“...There you go, my homie… let it out. I’ve always said; it’s amazing what a good cry can do.”

Her face buried in Raj’s shirt, Estela hadn’t heard the approach of another set of footsteps. But then she found herself eased over into another pair of waiting arms, and looked up to the concerned face of her wife, a mouthed ‘thank you’ to Raj upon her lips. Just the sight of Taylor, the feel of her, brought on another wave of tears; sorrow and gratitude… love, all spilling forth. She felt a hard kiss, fierce and protective, against her temple, and she melted into Taylor. She caught a ‘you’ve got it from here, Tayls’, and then it was just the two of them.

For a long while, Estela let herself be held, rocked, while cursed words played over in her head.

_…”I loved your mother Olivia very much. And I believe she loved me too, in her way.”…_

A guttural scream ripped itself from her lungs, tearing through the taunting voice. Love? What kind of monster could utter that word knowing what he’d done? It was sick, _sick…._

But she had Taylor’s arms around her, anchoring her in safety. Her breath rattled as the tears slowed, but slow they did. The tender touch of her love was a gift, but in that moment, it hit differently, tinged with a throbbing pain that hit her so deep.

“I hate it,” Estela gasped out. “I-I hate that she never got to be loved like this. My mother was good, and kind, and brave; she deserved _so much more._ It’s just not fair.”

Thoughtfully, Taylor stroked her wife’s back, slow and gentle.

“Hey…” she said soothingly, “maybe your mom wasn’t loved like _this,_ but sometimes a person’s soulmate isn’t romantic. Sometimes a person’s soulmate is their daughter.”

Estela looked up, meeting Taylor’s eyes with her own shining with tears. She needed that to be true. For her to have been enough… enough that her mother’s heart had been full. _Jesus-fucking-christ,_ her mom had been killed by her own best friend-- how could the love of one person have _ever_ been enough to overshadow the falseness, the cruelty…?

Seeing doubt cloud Estela’s wet gaze, Taylor reached a hand up, cupping her wife’s cheek and stroking away the tears there. “If your mom loved you even half as much as I know you loved her, you must have been her everything. You went to the literal end of the Earth for her.”

“And I’d do it again,” Estela growled softly. “Anything.” Of course, she knew what ‘anything’ truly meant. It meant that she had to live, knowing that the love she’d shared with her mother had finally brought her to safety. And someday, she’d pass that love on to her own child; Olivia Montoya would not be forgotten, not on Estela’s watch. She nodded, the edges of her mouth curving upward so slightly. Somehow, her wife had an instinctive way of knowing how to ease the pain in her heart, and for that she would always be grateful. “Thank you, Taylor,” she said huskily, “Really… thank you.”

* * *

“There you go, _mi ni_ _ň_ _a bella._ No more tears.”

Olivia walked the boards of her poky apartment, patting her infant girl’s back soothingly as she went. “See? Mama’s got you.”

The baby grizzled. Freshly awake from a long nap, she was still adjusting to the sights and sounds of this whole new world-- and it was rather overwhelming. Thankfully, her mother was both patient and confident, taking all the grumbles and demands in her stride. The infant soon settled, taking comfort in the cuddle. The sight, scent, the very feel of her mother… they meant safety.

Exhausted but happy, Olivia might just have been on top of the world. She refused to be daunted, even after listening to her older brother fretting on the other end of the phone. He didn’t understand. It was as though a hole in her heart had been filled-- brought about by, of all things, what had felt like the worst mistake she’d ever made. How could she regret a thing, when the outcome was there before her; the most perfect, beautiful angel of a person? Her little baby need not know of the shameful encounter that had led to her being. That man was not worthy of being any more a part of something so precious. Something so much _more_ than the circumstances that had brought her life.

“Oh, _mija. Te amo_ , _mi estrella. Te amo_.” Olivia kissed the baby’s forehead, and breathed in the smell of her, loving her. Olivia’s star; the brightest light in her life, to be cherished always. That was it, she knew suddenly, that was her baby’s name-- of course it was.

“… _Estela_ ,” she murmured. ‘Star _’._ Her Estela.


End file.
